Sherlock's Warlock Mystery
by RooftopTenshi
Summary: I am an 800 year old warlock. Shhh, don't tell a soul. No one can know. About 12 years ago, I felt a burning feeling on my wrist. I looked down and saw a delicately scrawled name in beautiful handwriting in place of the blurred name before. It read; Sherlock Holmes.


I am an 800 year old warlock.

Shhh, don't tell a soul. No one can know.

I've had a long life and I've learnt a lot of things along the way. By the way, this world that I live in has soulmates. Every person has a name written, in the persons own handwriting, delicately on the inner left wrist. The writing is blurry until both you and your soulmate have turned 20. Then the writing becomes clearer. I have had a blurry script on my wrist all my life. That is, all 800 years. And in all of those years, I have come to believe that my soulmate will never show up. It is possible, of course, that they had died before they turned 20. But this is a very rare case and usually doesn't happen.

Over the years, I have learnt that giving away your heart to someone is very dangerous. Terrible, in fact. I won't go into that. I never forget anything and all of those heartbreaks have taught me to be careful. I decided several centuries ago, that if my soulmate ever showed up, I would get to know them well before showing them the mark. And I wouldn't tell them my last name, so they'd never be sure if I was the one written on their wrist.

And something I forgot to say, was that every warlock, not that I actually know any other warlocks, has a mark or disfigurement to mark them as a warlock.

I happened to have wings. They were made of the strongest material on earth, as I found out during the war, but they were as soft as feathers and looked sleek and beautiful. Only problem was, they were large and hard to hide. Although I learnt how to shrink them to hide them, but I could only shrink them so much. So I looked like a hunchback, with my wings hidden under my jumper. When I was younger, I was teased and bullied for being a hunchback. But being a warlock had its advantages. Not that I used my power for anything bad, but it was nice to get back at those who hurt me. (not by hurting them, but playing pranks was definitely my favourite payback.)

As I got older and the centuries progressed, I had come to realize that I was what you might call an attractive person. Midnight black hair, soft and silky, and bright blue eyes. I had a good physique as well. When I stretched out my midnight wings, same colour as my hair, but with silver tips, they dragged along the floor and were taller than me. I would call them beautiful, but I know others would call them monstrous. I would probably be burnt at the stake if I revealed my wings. Luckily, I had enough sense to hide them.

I was smarter than the average kid, and knew what I was doing. Although I lost my parents when I was young, the memory of my fair mother stays on. Her image is what pushed me to live on, to strive for life.

When I was about 200 years old, I figured out how to make my wings hidden under my shirt unnoticeable. I used a type of magic that pushes the eye away, like a glamour. It makes people not look at it.

Another century later, I figured out how to glamour my wings so well, I didn't even need to hide them under a jumper. I have used that glamour ever since and so far, no-one has ever seen my wings.

About 12 years ago, I felt a burning feeling on my wrist. It felt like someone was carving a knife through it.

I looked down and saw a delicately scrawled name in beautiful handwriting in place of the blurred name before.

It read; _Sherlock Holmes._

My soulmate was real. The joy I could have felt was quenched down by sad memories, and I looked at the name for a minute longer before strapping a band over it. I didn't want someone to love me for my name, I wanted them to love me for a person. I then vowed never to say my last name out loud, and wipe it from the memories of all living things until the time was right. No one could know my last name. I also cast a spell over my soulmates name to make myself forget it and forget it ever came clear.

I moved into the big city a little while ago, looking for a cheap flat, and probably a flatmate. Not that I really want a flatmate because it makes it harder to hide my secrets. But I didn't have enough money. With my kind of job, money was hard to come by.

So I wandered around London, wondering how to get a flatmate. I had a place in mind, 221B Bakers street was cheap and convenient, I just needed to find another person. I looked around the streets, wondering if I should put flyers up. Maybe I could just put one on the big board near the hospital. Mm, yeah that sounded like a good plan. I set off to the library to write up a flyer.

 _Time Skip_

With that done, I started walking towards the bulletin board.

When I got there I saw a very tall person, with a big black trench coat, wearing some kind of deerstalker hat. I walked up to the board and started pinning the advert up, when someone ripped it from my hands. I looked over, and saw the tall man with my advert in his hands. I noticed that he had sharp cheekbones and beautiful black curly hair. Huh, quite handsome. His icy blue-grey gaze seemed to look right into my souls as he flicked his eyes up towards me.

"I'll take it." His voice was deep and velvety.

I looked at him in surprise, "You'll be my flatmate?"

He looked back at me, "That's what I said. No-one has responded to my advert." His eyes flicked over to what I realized was an advert for the same place I was looking into. Stupid me, I should have looked here first.

A faint blush spread across my cheeks.

"I sometimes play the violin for hours and don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He spoke rapidly whilst still looking at the bulletin board.

"Um, no. I like the violin." I paused. "And silence." I added.

"Together we ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Sorry gotta dash, I left my riding crop in the mortuary." He started walking away quickly.

I blinked. "Hang on a sec, at least tell me your name. We know nothing about each other!" I called out to him.

He turned and walked back to me.

"I know you've recently moved here to find a cheap spot to live, you've worked all your life fighting, training, hunting, maybe in the police force, but unlikely, as you wouldn't be looking for somewhere so cheap, so you fight for yourself and maybe others. I can tell your wiser than you let on because I can see in your eyes that you are older than you look, you have seen many years, you fought some kind of war, and you hide your soulmates name, meaning you do not want to know them, or see them or refuse to believe that you have a soulmate. I think you are hiding the name because it has finally showed clear. You hide it because you've had your heart broken before, you've seen sadness. You have no living relatives or friends, but you own a cat. You also have many secrets to hide." He spoke rapidly and confidently.

I blinked again. "That was bloody brilliant."

He tilted his head. "You think so? No one has ever said that before."

I looked surprised. "Really? What do they usually say."

He grinned, "Piss off." He paused. "Was it all correct?"

"Hmm, not sure." I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I can't say if you are fully correct or not, because I don't know if my soulmates name has come clear yet or not. I haven't looked at it for years." I replied.

He looked thoughtful. I stretched out my powers to his mind, trying to find what information I could find out about him. I saw several things, but decided not to mention any of them. I also found out his name. It seemed to be familiar, like I'd heard it before. Ah well, it'll come to me.

I decided to surprise the man, whom I now knew to be the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Homes.

I spoke again. "Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow evening then, Sherlock."

And with that, I walked away and left him wondering how the hell I knew his name.

Sherlock PoV

I watched in bafflement as the woman walked away. How in hell did she know my name? She even said earlier that she didn't know my name. As I watched the woman, I noticed I couldn't keep my eyes focused on her back. It was like something was pushing my sight away, making me not notice. I decided she was a mystery that I couldn't wait to solve. So I walked away to find my riding crop while organising my thoughts in my mind palace. It was almost as if I felt something touch my mind when she was talking to me. Another mystery to solve.

My PoV

All that night, I couldn't get the tall, handsome man out of my mind. His eyes burnt into me, reading my soul. If anyone could tell my past it would be him.


End file.
